Garden Veggies

Garden Veggies
Made into tile for my stove backsplash

Portland Rose Garden

Portland Rose Garden
Mike and my 2 youngest sons Ian and Leif

Grandson Michael's Birthday 2014 throwing water balloons

Grandson Michael's Birthday 2014 throwing water balloons
With son Beau, Grandson Luke and his mom Jennifer

Maren

Maren
I cut this out of a wedding line. I must take more pictures of her.

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

Pineapple Carrot Cakle


This cake always turns out moist and delicious. I love the pineapple in it. I like to bake it in a large sided cookie skeet so it is thinner and you can serve it in finger bars if you want. Take some of the drained pineapple juice and thin your cream cheese frosting with it for a nice pineapple frosting flavor.
1 C. oil
1 ½ C. Sugar
3 Eggs
2 C. Grated carrots
¾ C. Drained crushed pineapple
2 ½ C. Flour
1 tsp. Soda
1 tsp. Salt
1 tsp. Cinnamon
1 tsp. Vanilla
Add 1 C. chopped walnuts if desired or put them
on the frosting...at my house we have to do half nuts
half no nuts.
Beat and bake 350 – 20 to 35 minutes (if you bake them
in a cookie sheet it will take less time.)


Frost with cream cheese frosting

Saturday, July 26, 2008

MARRIAGE AND THE GOOD SAMARITAN


http://meridianmagazine.com/

My Spiritual Mentor on "My Blogger Friends" Wallace Goddard has written a book about Marriage that is the best thing out there on marriage. It was posted in serial on Meridian Magazine's web site if you want to read it there or you can order it on his sight. My favorite chapter which I have posted here is profound in its ability to look at marriage problems in a very unique way. Is our spouse like the injured man on the road to Jericho? Is the answer that we become the "Good Samaritan" in our relationships?

The Journey of Life
From Chapter 1 of First Principles of Marriage
By H. Wallace Goddard

"A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho . . . ." Notice that, in this account, we have no identifying information about the central character of the story. Was he a merchant, a foreigner, a father, an apostate? Why are we given no detail about that poor man who made the lonely trek to Jericho? Because that traveler represents you and me and our partners and our children in our journeys of life. He is every man and every woman and every child.


Jesus is telling a story about us, about you and me.

There is unexpected significance that the journey was from Jerusalem to Jericho. Jerusalem had unique spiritual significance. It was the Holy City. It was the temple city. Its elevation would not normally be noteworthy—except in contrast to that of Jericho. “From Jerusalem, at 2,700 feet above sea level, to Jericho, at 850 feet below sea level the lowest city on the globe, is a descent of over 3,500 feet” (D. Kelly Ogden, “The Testing Ground for the Covenant People,” Ensign, Sept. 1980, p. 56, emphasis added).


Jesus’ choice of those particular endpoints for the journey must have significance. Were the two cities chosen specifically because Jesus was teaching of everyman’s descent from the heavenly presence to this hellish world? Was Jesus inviting us to understand this parable as a type for each of our mortal journeys? We might paraphrase the story: “Each of us goes down from the presence of God to this lowly, desolate world.” Jesus is talking about our own inglorious descents from Heaven.

". . . and fell among thieves”

The risks of a lone journey along the road to Jericho were well known to the Jews of the time. Why did the traveler take the risks? And why do we take the risks of mortality? Why did we choose to come to this desolate place?

A Heavenly One-on-One

In my mind I picture a time some ages ago when Father called you and me--each of us individually--to an interview, a Father’s Interview. He looked on us with love and shared His appreciation for us: “I love you, Dear One.”

Then He told us: “You are ready to go to earth.” We tensed at the prospect of leaving Him. He continued: “I can customize your earth experience to prepare you for the place you want in Eternity. So the key question is, where do you want to spend Eternity?”

Each of us trembled. Dared we say? Dared we hope? He prodded: “Go ahead. Tell me. Please.”
We blurted: “Oh Father! I want to be with you! I want to be a part of your work! I want to spend Eternity with Jehovah and all the noble and great ones.” Then we hung our heads in shame. How dare we hope for such a thing? How could we be so presumptuous?


But He gently lifted our chins. I imagine a tear coursing down His face. “And that is where I want you. I want you back with Me and all my most cherished Ones.” He pulled us close and filled our spirits with His goodness. We leaned into His love and felt more at home than we ever had.

After what seemed like an eternity, He leaned back and sighed. “The education for exaltation is very rigorous and demanding. . ..”

We interrupted: “Oh! I’d do anything to be with You again.” He smiled but had a concerned look in His eyes. “Let me show you something.” He opened our minds to see every hour, every minute, every second, every hiccough of our personal mortal experience. After all, He is not a person to sneak big surprises into the small print of our mortal contracts. In my opinion, He showed us every single thing we would experience in our mortal education from the pains of birth to the anxieties of death and every struggle in between. We were sobered.

He asked, “Would you bear all of that to return Home?”

“Gladly. But . . .” We hesitated. “Can I do it? Am I strong enough? Am I good enough? Do I have a chance of making it?”

Father glowed. “No. No, you can’t make it. You would get hopelessly lost on your own. You will often be confused and uncertain. You will become hopelessly forlorn and dispirited. But, if you’re willing to go, I’ll provide my two Extraordinary Helpers. I will provide you my Third-in-command, the Holy Spirit, who will teach you, comfort you, and cleanse you. And I will provide my Second-in-command, my dearly Beloved Son, who will give you the teachings you need. And He will pay the price of all your debts so that you can come Home clean and perfect.”

At this point our eyes were big with disbelief and tears coursed down our cheeks. We slipped from His arms to our knees “You would do all that for me?”

“Gladly.”

“And all the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy” (Job 38:7). Never in all of eternity had there been such Good News! Right Then and There we committed to make the perilous journey. We signed the contract. We made a covenant.

But, somewhere between our heavenly Home Above to bedeviled and beleaguered earth beneath, we suffered from a veil that hid that sacred pre-trip moment from our view. So we started this journey dazed, forgetful, and vulnerable. The newborn baby cries and flails his limbs. This cold and breezy place is clearly not our Home. The bad news is that things will get worse before they get better. Our mortal pathways are strewn with thorn and thistles (See Moses 4). As we journey through mortality in this harsh world, we continue to be vulnerable to brutal attacks. We often fall among thieves.

The Treacherous Journey

". . . and fell among thieves, which stripped him of his raiment, and wounded him, and departed, leaving him half dead."

What a perfect description of what every person experiences in the course of mortality! We all get injured and left alone along our treacherous journey of life. We lose the robe of innocence and heavenly grace (See Welch, p. 76). We are often stripped of our hope and whatever dim sense of identity we had. We are wounded not only by difficulties but also by sin and filth. We are left exactly half dead. While our bodies still breathe, our spirits are dead—cut off from the Divine Lifeblood that sustained us when we walked in the Garden of Heaven with Father.

Each of us is wounded in mortality. No one is spared. Ironically, those who have the highest aspirations suffer some of the hardest injuries. They chose the tougher training.

However, if we learn the mindset of faith, our troubles no longer surprise us nor bother us so much. We know that everything we suffer was carefully designed by a Perfect Father to prepare us for our Work on High. We also know that the entire First Presidency of Heaven is looking after us.

Hoping for Help

"And by chance there came down a certain priest that way . . ."

Ahhh! We are hopeful! Priests are those people in the community commissioned to see to the well-being of the people. They are the spiritually elite. Certainly this priest will stop and care for the injured one.
". . . and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side."


Yikes! Why would he do such a thing? He did not merely pass by, he went out of his way to avoid the disagreeable sight. What was he thinking? Maybe: "What a shame that people would be out on this dangerous road alone. Doesn't he know any better? What a fool! This is the natural consequence of such a foolish decision. I hope he learns a lesson. Besides, he is not in my congregation." There is a cool detachment, maybe even some condescension in such a response.

Here comes the next passerby. Certainly he will stop. After all, he is a Levite, one who serves as a musician or custodian in the temple of God. Such a humble servant will certainly minister to one who is injured.

"And likewise a Levite, when he was at the place, came and looked on him and passed by on the other side."
Was convenience or cleanliness more important to the Levite than godly compassion? What a bitter irony! Was Jesus suggesting that the entire Jewish hierarchy from humble Levites to exalted priests was spiritually bankrupt? Was He saying that charity is the mark of true followers—and there was none of it in the ancient and rigid order?


Certainly the same might be said of some of our responses to spousal suffering in marriage. We sometimes are so concerned about being right in an argument that we fail to be good. “The letter killeth but the spirit giveth life” (2 Cor. 3:6). When the system is drained of charity, it is only a dead form. When we pound our spouse with logic or power, we are no better than the thieves. When we dispassionately witness our partners’ pains, we are no better than the priest or Levite.

We can be humbled by reflection. How often have I seen my partner’s pain and added to it by heaping discontent on our already-injured spouse? When she is hurting do I take an “I told you so” stance?
Maybe we do a little better than the thieves. Maybe we act like priest or Levite. We blithely ignore our partner’s struggles. Maybe we figure they deserve it. Maybe we figure it’s not our problem. Maybe we are absorbed with our own problems.


After the priest and Levite passed him by, if the injured one was conscious, he must have been desperate. The holiest members of his community had passed him by. Would no one have pity on one as miserable and helpless as he? It would appear that we have no hope as we weaken at the side of the road.


Unexpected Grace

"But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was . . ."

Certainly we will not get help from a Samaritan. They are half-breed pretenders to the great religious tradition. They are the lowest of the low. They are strangers and foreigners
.
“The Samaritan was racially impure-‑half Gentile, half Israelite; he worshiped at a different temple, a rival of the Jerusalem temple. His religion was half pagan, half Jewish, a blasphemous mongrel religion to the ultraorthodox Pharisees. So Jews despised such people. . . . One can imagine how offensive this story was to the priests and Levites of Jesus' day. Translating such a parable into our culture, it is as if a stake president or a bishop passed by such a victim because he was late for a session at the temple or a ward planning meeting, and an excommunicant Mormon cared for him” (Compton, 1993, p. 153, emphasis added).


Note that the despicable Samaritan “journeyed” while the priest and likewise the Levite came “by chance.” Is it possible that the officially religious came upon the scene by chance while the Samaritan was out looking for opportunities to serve? Is it possible that the most spiritual are not always those who are most religious? Is it possible that the mark of a true believer is the willingness to travel the highways of life looking for opportunities to help those in need?

“Love is one of the chief characteristics of Deity, and ought to be manifested by those who aspire to be the sons of God. A man filled with the love of God, is not content with blessing his family alone, but ranges through the whole world, anxious to bless the whole human race” (Teachings of the Prophet Joseph Smith, p.174, emphasis added).

There is a quirk in human nature here. Many of us find it easier to minister to the stranger than to the family member. Unexpected service to the stranger is often warmly appreciated. Service to family is expected and often goes unappreciated. As a result, many of us cheerfully do for others the things that we grudgingly or sporadically do for family. What would we do if we were less concerned about the rewards of appreciation? Probably we would offer gentle healing regularly to injured family members.

The Pattern of Heavenly Rescue

The Samaritan in Jesus’ story clearly represents the Savior Himself. “Samaritans were viewed as the least of all humanity, so it was prophesied that the Servant Messiah would be ‘despised and rejected of men’ and ‘esteemed . . . not’ (Isa.53:3)” (Welch, p. 79). The work of caring for the injured is often disdained by those who see themselves as holy or busy. Jesus is different:

". . . and when he saw him, he had compassion on him."

The first response of this disreputable stranger was compassion. Rather than chide the traveler for foolishness or lack of preparation, He looked on his injuries with empathy. Even now He does the same for us as He finds us bleeding by the side of the road. He might rightly claim that we have brought our miseries on ourselves. He might justly claim that He has no responsibility for us since we have all strayed from His counsel. But he looks on us with the compassion characteristic of God. We would not expect this Samaritan passerby to do more than feel saddened by our plight. Why would He care for those who cause Him pain? Yet again we are surprised by Him:

The Samaritan "went to him, and bound up his wounds, pouring in oil and wine, and set him on his own beast, and brought him to an inn, and took care of him" (v.34).

Wow. The stranger brought all of His resources to bear in healing us, the injured ones! He binds up our wounds. He is, after all One who is touched by every pain and infirmity that we ever suffer. He bore not only our sins but even our pains and discomforts so that His compassion would be fully informed (Alma 7:11-12). He brings His whole soul as an offering to us.

Symbols of Spiritual Rescue

Hugh Nibley teaches us that no ancient Christian could have misunderstood the ceremonial implications of "pouring in oil and wine." The alert reader recognizes sacred, even sacramental, emblems. Today, when we think of oil, we recall hands laid on heads for healing. We think of anointing and dedicating our whole lives to sacred purposes. We are soothed and comforted by the blessings attended by consecrated oil.

Further, “olive oil is symbolic of the Holy Ghost. This is because the Holy Ghost provides spiritual nourishment, enlightenment, and comfort, just as olive oil in the ancient Near East was used for food, light, and anointing” (Tvedtnes, p. 427).

When we think of the wine, we remember His weekly invitation to come boldly to the throne of grace and receive mercy and grace to help in time of need (Hebrews 4:16). Every week He offers His blood to heal us. With his stripes we are healed. His compassion stretches to the infinities of time and space as He personally ministers to all of us.


But there is still more. Jesus puts us on His beast and walks while we ride. What a model of meekness and humility! He, King of kings and Lord of lords, walks so that we may be carried to healing. He who is truly First becomes last while we who are last are put first.

Jesus does not then dump us at the first county hospital. He brings us to a safe place and tends to our healing Himself. In the time of our crisis, He stays up all night with us
.
Perhaps you have felt His ministering to you in times of desperation. I have. And I am grateful. In our lonely nights He ministers to those of us who have slept through His agony (See Matthew 26:49).


Continued Care

"And on the morrow when he departed, he took out two pence, and gave them to the host, and said unto him, Take care of him; and whatsoever thou spendest more, when I come again, I will repay thee."

After getting us through the crisis, he paid two pence to the host. Two pence can have several meanings. The two pence would pay two days' wages for a laborer and would have provided care for the injured man for up to two months! (NIV Study Bible). It could also mean that Jesus pays for care during the two days He is absent and He will return on the third day (Welch, p. 84). Intriguingly, the amount paid was “the amount each Jewish man had to pay as the temple tax each year” (Welch, p. 84). Thus this payment put the injured traveler right with God for a year while his body healed just as partaking of the sacrament worthily sets us right with God for another week of spiritual recovery.

The Reward for Service

The account reports that Jesus leaves us in the care of the host with the promise to repay any expenses. Some commentators have noted the folly of anyone promising to pay any and all debts. It seems clear that Jesus is not turning the healing of the injured over to strangers. He is entrusting the work of ministering to those whom He knows and trusts, those who have made covenants with Him. He promises you and me that, when He comes again, He will repay anything we invest in helping and healing His children.

When we follow the example of the Good Samaritan and care for injured travelers, the currency of repayment for our service is uniquely appropriate if surprising. He promises us forgiveness of our sins. “For the sake of retaining a remission of your sins from day to day, that ye may walk guiltless before God--I would that ye should impart of your substance to the poor, every man according to that which he hath, such as feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, visiting the sick and administering to their relief, both spiritually and temporally, according to their wants” (Mosiah 4:26).


When we minister to family members who are sick or injured, we receive in payment a divine bounty of forgiveness.

The Lowest Response to Vulnerability

We see different kinds of responses to the traveler. The thieves seized on the opportunity to rob the traveler. The priest and Levite actively ignored him. The Samaritan had compassion and ministered to him. These three responses might represent general types of responses to those who are distressed.

When we operate by the telestial law, we act primarily to meet our own needs with disregard for others—just as the thieves did. Our automatic responses in family life usually operate at this level. Our needs are the guiding principle in our decisions. We act to protect our dignity and interests with little regard for the needs of family members.

For example, in a spousal squabble we attack our partners, their wisdom and goodness in the process of proving that things should have been done our way. We leave them injured and half dead as we stomp off to inventory our rightness.


The Honorable Response to Distress


The second type of response is the terrestrial typified by the priest and Levite and is guided by principles of fairness and honor. The priest and Levite had no official responsibility to one who was unwise or careless. Besides, how could they ever hope to help one who was so injured?

This level of functioning is actually about as good as humans can reasonably expect in family life. This is the mindset of honorable business. We give with the expectation of reasonable benefit. We negotiate and bargain. It is a triumph of the law of business over the law of the jungle.

When we don’t get benefits commensurate with our investments, we cut our losses and quit the relationship. We have no intention of throwing good effort into hopeless causes.

The Heavenly Response to Our Need

The third type of response is that of the Samaritan. He was purposefully looking for those in need—such need is never in short supply in our families. And He came prepared. It was not by chance that He had oil, wine and bandages with Him. He was moved by compassion and prepared to serve.

This kind of response does not come easily to humans. In fact, I think it is fully impossible for us—unless we are filled with Jesus. We cannot “love [our] enemies, bless them that curse [us], do good to them that hate [us], and pray for them which despitefully use [us], and persecute [us]” (Matthew 5:44) unless we have been changed by Him.


Most of the time we exact an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. Yet you can probably think of a time when you have responded to ugliness with graciousness, kindness, love, and compassion. It feels good. We can see Him working through us! We are blessed to have Him at the helm of our lives.

The surest test of our spiritual maturity is the way we react to those who are imperfect physically, spiritually, or emotionally. How do we react when someone attacks and blames us? Do we defend ourselves at all costs? Do we try to be fair and balanced? Or do we, like Jesus, recognize that ugliness is often an expression of pain? Do we minister with love and patience? Do we bring healing to the injured?

Friday, July 18, 2008

SNICKER PIE




If you are a Snicker fan this is incredible and rich. 12 servings --You only need a small piece.  A large Keebler Graham cracker crust can be used instead of the homemade.



CRUST
1 1/2 C graham cracker crumbs
1 TBS sugar
6 TBS unsalted butter melted (salted works)
Heat oven to 350. Combine ingredients and press into a buttered 9" glass
pie pan (I sometimes use a springform pan). Bake about 5 min. Cool on rack. Maintain oven temp.



FUDGE LAYER
6 TBS flour
1/2 tsp baking powder
1/8 tsp salt
1/2 c unsalted butter (cut in pieces)
4 oz semisweet choc. chopped or
1/2 C. Chocolate Chips
1 oz unsweetened choc. chopped or
(3 T. Cocoa and 1 T. oil)
1/2 cup sugar
1 lg egg
1 lg egg yolk
1 tps vanilla extract

Sift flour, baking powder and salt into medium bowl. Combine butter and
chocolates in microwave until melted (if using cocoa and oil just stir together with melted butter and chocolate). Stir together until smooth add vanilla. Cool slightly. Using and electric mixer beat sugar, egg and egg yolk in a medium bowl until slightly thickened. Add dry ingredients and chocolate mixture and mix until just combined. Pour into crust and bake until almost set ( about 17 min.) Cool
on rack for 10 min.


Cut up about 8 1/2 oz Snicker's bars and place on fudge layer. (Use the mini's or cut the small ones in two or three pieces.)


CREAM CHEESE LAYER
12 oz. cream cheese, room temp.
1/3 c sugar
1 lg egg
1 tsp vanilla extract
With an electric mixer, combime cheese and sugar, add egg and vanilla and
beat until smooth. Spread mixture over Snicker's and bake for about 15
min. or until set. Cool

 
Melt 2 oz milk chocolate or 1/4 C. chocolate chips and 2 T. whipping cream (the microwave works) drizzle on top (I like a criss cross pattern). Refrigerate and serve chilled.

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

PRAY AND DON'T FAINT

I am reading the New Testament right now. Luke is my favorite of the gospels because he seems to be more sensitive to women and chronicling the parables of Jesus concerning women. Last night I read a parable in Luke chapter 18 that I don’t think we talk about very much. Because I keep a scripture journal with my thoughts on significant scriptures to me I wanted to put down my feelings about this:


1. And he spake a parable unto them to this end, that men ought always to pray, and not to faint; (OK we have heard this before at least the "pray always" part but what does it mean "not to faint?")


2. Saying, There was in a city a judge, which feared not God, neither regarded man: (Not a judge we want to be in charge of our fate.)


3. And there was a widow in that city; and she came unto him, saying, Avenge me of mine adversary. (I suspect there might be a better translation for the word "avenge." The NIV bible says "Grant me justice against my adversary.")

4. And he would not for a while: but afterward he said within himself, Though I fear not God, nor regard man;
5. Yet because this widow troubleth me, I will avenge her, lest by her continual coming she weary me. (I guess even the insensitive have a point where they become weak and yeilding.)
6. And the Lord said, Hear what the unjust judge saith. (I think Jesus is saying make a comparison here and see if this unjust judge who feels no constraint for right or wrong is compelled by persistence to deal justly with a helpless individual, how much more will God answer prayer.)


7. And shall not God avenge (answer) his own elect, which cry day and night unto him, though he bear long with them? (I love the image of Him bearing long with us knowing that we will "learn obedience from the things we suffer." [Hebrews 5:8] Do we need to show God that we do not take our request lightly by not giving up when we feel our prayer is just?)

8. I tell you that he will (answer) them speedily. (Maybe speedily when we have paid the persistent price. I think a "broken heart and a contrite spirit" (3N.9:20) must be shown.) Nevertheless when the Son of man cometh, shall he find faith on the earth? (This question haunts me. Will he find faith in me? Faith that doesn’t "faint"—that continues to plead in faith and hope?)


Oh, this is so hard to do in the world with so many distractions. Why do we give up easily when we pray for things that are good? There could be lots of answers here but I am hoping this parable will give me hope to carry on and not faint in my worthy prayers.

Sunday, July 13, 2008

THE WELLINGTON HOUSE

EMPATHY AND THE LOOK


The summer before I started first grade we moved into a basement house 3 miles west of the small town of Wellington Utah. My step-father built the house on 3 acres of alkali dessert. The house was down a lane off highway 50 & 6. There was an expansive wash on the north side of the lane with a drizzling alkali stream and tamaracks. Our house was on the South side where a large irrigation ditch ran by the front of the house.

If I learned anything from Archie, my stepfather, it was that you can do anything you want whether you know how to do it or not. He wasn’t a finish carpenter. He winged it most of the time. His building skills were crude but sturdy. What he lacked in talent he excelled in guts and creativity. I don’t know if it was money or motivation but things didn’t seem to get finished most of the time.

When we moved into the basement house it was lacking. I am not sure if the basement was ever completely finished. There was sheet rock nailed to some of the studs but not all and nothing was painted. None of the doorways had doors. The kitchen had a coal burning cook stove, a few rough crafted shelves and a sink attached to the wall. There was a ringer washing machine in the corner of the room ready to be pulled out on washing day. There were a few patches of linoleum but mostly the floors were bare cement. The linoleum seemed to always have worn black patches so I have my doubts it was ever new in our house or just so cheap it wore out quickly. We also had an outhouse. This was home for the next few years. My mother tried to fix a few things on occasion but mostly it just got shabbier. It wasn’t a place you wanted to invite your friends to.

I often think of my mother in that house trying to create a home for four small children, all sleeping in the same little room. I think of her cooking on that coal stove, baking bread weekly, raising a large garden and canning hundreds of bottles of fruit and vegetables in the heat of the summer. She worked very hard at times. She wasn’t a great housekeeper but I don’t blame her, really. It must have been very discouraging trying to keep that unfinished basement house looking decent. My mother had 3 priorities: the dishes, the washing and she made her bed every day. The rest of the house pretty much went undone. On special occasions she would muster some motivation and clean the place to a beautiful state in my eyes. She would wax the old worn linoleum until it gleamed. When it was clean and organized that worn, shabby 4-room basement house looked wonderful to me. I wanted it like that every day but my mother didn’t care, didn’t have the energy and she wasn’t good at organizing us to work. The reality was she would rather read a Zane Grey novel and escape.

The shopping in Wellington consisted of 2 beer joints, a gas station and a small post office. So, every Friday, when my dad arrived home from the coal mine around 4:00 PM, my parents would drive the 12 miles to Price and shop for groceries. The kids stayed home. If we didn’t fight we would get candy bars when they returned.

I am sure that being the only girl in the family made a difference in how I saw it all. I was very young, perhaps 8 or 9, the first time I decided that I would clean the house as a surprise for my mother. I didn’t always do it but quite often I would get with it and clean everything I could in the 2 hours they were gone, including scrubbing the floor on my hands and knees and waxing the old linoleum.

Once Vaugh J. Featherstone came to our Stake conference and told a story that later he also told in General conference. (Oct. 99) He said his mother worked graveyard shift at the Garfield Smelter to help support the 7 children in his family. On one particular occasion his mother invited 30-40 relatives to dinner. After only 2 hours sleep she got up and cooked and baked all day for the event. When dinner was over the company stayed to visit. Bro. Featherstone describes the following situation: "I remember standing all alone in the kitchen. In my young mind I thought, My mother worked all night; she has worked all day to get this dinner. When everyone leaves, she will have to do the dishes and put the food away. It will take two or three hours, and that’s not fair. Then I thought, I will do them."

For the next 3 hours he washed dishes and cleaned the kitchen. He was 11 years old. He said he will never forget the look on his mother’s face when she came into the kitchen and saw what he had done. How much is a look of gratitude worth? Did I clean for my mother or myself? Was I motivated by the "look" or did I clean because I wanted a clean house. I am not really sure. Because of my father’s alcoholism, and the domestic violence in our home, I had a sense of my mothers suffering and decided I never wanted to add to it.

My mother was able to do something that never worked for me. In her disorganization she would assign someone to wash the dishes after dinner. If they complained she would get up and simply say, "Then, I will do them myself." We would all scramble and offer to wash them, feeling it was not fair for her to do any more work. Usually the errant apointee would repent and wash the dishes.

My kids never saw me as empathetic. I was the capable, energetic, wonder woman, flying through the day doing it all. All but maybe the things I should have been doing, smelling more roses and kissing more hurts. Recently in a group conversation with some of my children about my mothering one of them said, "Oh, if we had a wound mom would tell us to get some toilet paper and duct tape to make a bandage and stop crying. It was funny, and half-true but more indicative of how they saw me as lacking empathy for them. Perhaps all children see their mothers this way. Sometimes the motherhood pressure cooker leaves you exhausted and numb and wondering if you can possibly do any more and by the way what about me? You get a little jaded and callous, at least I did. I remember wanting to run away at times.

Looking back I know I should have cried more. Once I put a meal on the table for my little family only to have them all complain. Even Mike said, "It might be best not to cook this again." Maybe I was having a bad day or hormones were out of whack but I started to cry and went to my bedroom and locked the door. I didn’t come out all evening. My kids kept knocking on the door wanting to know if I was OK, saying they were sorry. Oh Yes, I should have cried more. I should have put down my hurried, capable armor and collapsed in a crying heap, like I wanted at times.

I am torn between wanting and not wanting to do motherhood over. I would do it if I had just one bit of knowledge down pat: "Charity... seekeketh not her own." "Pray unto the father with all the energy of heart that ye may be filled with this love . (Moroni 7:48)" I didn’t do that enough for sure. I should never have run out of real Band-Aids.

About the Wellington house: When I was about 11 my dad built 4 rooms on the top of the basement. It had a real electric stove; a coal burning forced air furnace, and a crudely built bathroom in the basement. The addition had new linoleum in every room. The house was never wonderful with carpets on the floor, nice kitchen cupboards and a good bathroom but a great improvement from where we had been living. Just having windows we could see out was nice, and cleaning on Fridays still gave me a lot of joy. I still clean on Fridays and I still love shiny clean floors.

Friday, July 11, 2008

HOW I WANT TO LIVE

"I don’t want to drive up to the pearly gates in a shiny sports car, wearing beautifully, tailored clothes, my hair expertly coifed, and with long, perfectly manicured fingernails. I want to drive up in a station wagon that has mud on the wheels from taking kids to scout camp. I want to be there with grass stains on my shoes from mowing Sister Schenk’s lawn. I want to be there with a smudge of peanut butter on my shirt from making sandwiches for a sick neighbor’s children. I want to be there with a little dirt under my fingernails from helping to weed someone’s garden. I want to be there with children’s sticky kisses on my cheeks and the tears of a friend on my shoulder. I want the Lord to know I was really here and that I really lived."

Linda Bentley Johnson, 1997 Byu Women’s conference http://deseretbook.com/mormon-life/news/story?story_id=6999

Monday, July 7, 2008

BOW TIE CHICKEN SALAD

I had this salad at a party recently and came home to reproduce it on my own for the 4th of July. I think it is a pretty good repo. It makes a huge amount so plan to feed a lot of people or take some to the neighbors. It stayed fresh for the 5 days it tooks us to eat it even after sharing it with the neighbors.

1 lb. box Barilla Mini Bow Ties—cooked. These are new and really great because they don’t break apart when they are cooked and are about an inch across when done. Or use any pasta you want. The bow ties are just so cute.

3 large chicken breasts cooked and cut into bite size pieces or some rotisserie deboned chicken. Actually I think a couple of large cans of white meat chicken would work but add it at the last as it shreds up when over stirred. The more chicken you have the more it will be a main dish salad.

1 Can of pineapple tidbits drained or chunks cut in half

1 or 2 crisp red apples cut in small pieces but not chopped. Pour a little of the pineapple juice over them to keep them from oxidizing.

4 cups of red grapes

1 can of cashews (about 1 ½ C. I used unsalted but I think the salt would work if you shake off the excess and then not salt the pasta)

1 ½ C thin sliced celery. This could be optional. I like the crunch

Dressing: Mix ¾ Cup of Hidden Ranch Cole Slaw Dressing with 1/2 C. Mayo. Stir together well and toss with all the ingredients. If it is too dry when ready to serve add a little more Slaw dressing. Season with salt to taste.

Wednesday, July 2, 2008

MAREN


TEMPLE ESCORT


We know many things spiritually. We believe many things intellectually but mostly we think that miracles are something that happen to other people. Over 2 years ago with tears streaming and heart aching I left the temple on a Friday afternoon fasting. In the car on the way home I cried out " I need a miracle." I had spent 15 plus years going to the temple weekly often fasting. Mostly I prayed to be "filled with love." –that I could make a difference in the lives of my family by showing them more love. I have a deep respect for agency. I am not sure how it happened that not one of my children was going to church, including my returned missionary. I believe in Jesus Christ and his plan of happiness. I have felt so often like Lehi at the tree of life wanting my children to taste the sweetness. But in the end I understand that they have choice. They are good people doing many good things and I know that nothing but love will show them the light and maybe some miracles in God’s time and way.



Two months later my miracle began to unfold. Maren called me to say she was going back to church. Her spiritual odyssey has been written. I will share it sometime. Last night, a little more than 2 years later, I was her escort as she was endowed in the Bountiful Temple—the temple with the 4 winged vases. There was a little miracle that happened in the temple last night that I can’t talk about but it helped me to understand that God knows me. I also know that he loves Maren and is guiding her life. I see wings and I have hope.

 
WINGS OF HOPEWritten by Charmaine Anderson – April 2004
It is morning.
I resurrect from sleep.
I put on my walking shoes and close the door.
I walk toward the rising sun of golden outstretched arms.
I think of the Son whose light warms my soul.
I climb the dusty path in solitude and
I know why Jesus went alone in the hills to walk and pray.
I do the same with a pleading heart in His name.
I sing the songs of Zion
I rehearse memorized scriptures that give me hope and joy.
I have an open heart and mind.
I am willing to be taught.
I see a Hawk’s nest on a pole high on the path.
I see the mother’s head as she warms the eggs of her
anticipated chicks.
I am a mother too.
I feel akin to her.
I long to see the baby birds, and one day
I see two little heads above the nest; but now
I hope to see them fly.
I have chicks. Will they fly?
I walk the path in a pleading prayer this day for my chicks.
I spy the young bird perched on the edge of the nest.
I look up and it soars through the blue sky strong and sure.
I cry and cheer and raise my arms in excitement.
I know my chicks will fly too.
I have a witness from the Son on this beautiful morning.



Be merciful unto me O God
Be merciful unto me.
For My soul trusteth in thee
Yea in the shadow of thy Wings
Will I make my refuge,
Until these calamities be overpast. Psalms 57:1


I see Wings now and
I have hope.
I go to the temple fasting for my chicks.


How often would I have gathered
Thy children together
As a hen doth gather her brood under her Wings
And ye would not. Luke 13:34


I go through the veil and hear comforting promises.
I sit with bowed head in the Celestial room.
I raise my eyes to see Wings.
I view four large brown glass vases enfolded in Wings.
I have four children. The Son spoke again.


He shall cover thee with His feathers.
And under his Wings shalt thou trust. Psalms 91:4


I fly on man made Wings to another temple – San Diego.
I discover in the Celestial room winged vases.
I am amazed--they are exact copies, only clear.
I am one; my eternal mate is the other.
I have a complete picture of hope for my family.


The Sun of righteousness arise with healing in his Wings – Malachi 4:2

I see Wings and
I feel His Love.